Kampf
by DeBrabant
Summary: A string of attacks on various temples in LA leads Zeke Stone to one of the most horrible of the 113.


Kampf  
by Danii  
Summary: Stone investigates a string of attacks at various L.A. temples, and encounters one of the most horrible of the 113.   
Disclaimer: I own no one. I am not getting any money for this work, and I don't expect any at all.   
Distribution: To anyone who will take it. Just tell me where it is.  
Rating: R  
Warning: This work of fiction deals with the greatest modern mass slaughter in the 20th century, not to mention the one who orchestrated the aforementioned killing. If such material offends you, or if you find reading such things either too depressing or too painful, please stop now. And please understand that I do not wish to disrespect those who lost their lives to this tragedy at all.  
  
And now:  
  
Stone walked through what had once been the doorway to the Father Israel Temple, which was now no more than cinders and rubble. As he passed, his long-dead fingers ever so lightly grazed the surface of the crumbling remains, leaving a black stain on his pale hand almost like the stain this horrible scene had left on his non-beating but still fully functional heart.  
  
It was the third massacre in the last two weeks, claiming another fourty-seven victims to add to the two hundred fifty-three already murdered. And they had been murdered; the coroner's report Stone had gotten his hands on had made it quite clear that these fires were anything but accidental.  
  
The report had also made it clear that, from what they could find from the bodies, the fire hadn't killed any of them. According to the pathologists, all the victims had in fact died from breathing some sort of deadly gas, traces of which had been found in the bodies' lungs. And yet, from what the examiners' tests said, the gas had not been from the smoke of the fire but from some unknown source. A source that they were unsure of, given the fact that, according to their records, this particular poisonous gas had not been used since the 1940's.  
  
Stone continued his walk inside the burnt remains of the once-holy place, carefully avoiding the other people on the crime scene. What they were looking for was not what he was looking for, and vice versa, so for this case, it would be better if the police knew nothing about the involvment of one Ezekiel Stone.  
  
He didn't know what he was looking for really, but his tired brain insisted that he had to find something soon to stop this Damned bastard from taking out another temple. Something that would give him a clue as to what the killer was, why they were destroying innocent lives, and what it was they were hoping to get from these murders.  
  
"Who knows, Ezekiel?" a familiar voice asked in a murmur right behind his ear in a way that should have annoyed him but couldn't. Stone just couldn't feel annoyed standing where he was, it being what it had been and what it now was.  
  
"Who knows," the voice continued in a hissing whisper that almost made him hungry for an apple, "Who knows why your most recent prey finds pleasure in doing what he does?"  
  
Stone didn't answer. Instead, he tiredly waited for the Devil to continue, as he knew the fallen angel would.  
  
"Well," the Devil said with a shrug as he slipped ever so gracefully to the front of Stone, "I do, but if you think I'm going to tell you, you've got another thing coming."  
  
"Thank you," the dead detective replied with a nod, "Now go away..."  
  
"Oh, Ezekiel..." the Devil asked with mock sympathy that was accompanied by a large smirk, "Is this case getting to you? Oh why on Earth would this case be bothering you so much, do you think?"  
  
Stone didn't answer. He didn't feel like playing games.  
  
"Is it the mass murder in a holy place that gets under your skin, Detective?" the Devil asked with a questioning glance, "Or perhaps it's the sheer number of victims this Damned soul has taken..."  
  
"Something like that, yeah..." Stone replied as he began to walk away from his torturer/employer, knowing that what he was doing was foolish since the Devil usually gave him hints during these little talks. But he was so...there wasn't even a word for what Stone was feeling at the moment. Something between outrage, hatred, sadness, grief, helplessness, and anger, a condition he'd been in far too many times in his short life and his afterlife.  
  
But of course the Devil couldn't let him go before he was done. Not that Stone had expected him to.  
  
"Detective, Detective..." the Devil said with a disappointed shake of his head, "Would't you like a little clue as to who could be doing this before you go?"  
  
"Sure..." Stone replied in the tone of voice most people reserved for small children who 'wanted to show you something.'  
  
"Well, since you've been so much fun, Mr. Stone, I'll give you two."  
  
"Why, thank you." he answered, trying to keep as much of the sarcasm out of his voice as he could. Which wasn't much.  
  
"First off, if it'll make you feel any better, I'll have you know that the number of victims he's taken so far since the escape isn't even a fraction of what he did his first time up here..."  
  
"Yeah, that makes me feel great." Stone muttered.  
  
"And secondly," the Devil continued with a slight flourish, "A little advice when dealing with this soul imparticular, though I think that it would be a good idea for all of your jobs..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Haben Sie keinen Pity. Tat brutal."  
  
Suddenly, one of the pieces of the torched building fell right near Stone's foot, and due to pure reaction, the dead man jumped away to avoid being hit. A second later, he looked up to where the Devil had been standing.  
  
And, like always, he was gone... 


End file.
